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She doesn’t finish her sentence before she hurls vomit on my feet, then folds her body on the ground.

She sits in the mud, waiting for me to pick her up.

I don’t. I’m actually rather disgusted.

Instead, I stare at the footprints and try to figure out what they mean as Naomi cries and moans at my feet.

I shift my gaze down to her. “When was the last time you ate, Naomi?”

“I can’t remember,” she says as she gags one more time before looking up at me with tears in her eyes and snot on her face. “It’s been a few days, at least.” That would explain the vomiting and her inability to keep any liquids in.

“You had food. A third of it, to be exact. Is it gone?”

She bites her lip and doesn’t respond; she just lays her head down—not answering but answering all the same.

I grind my teeth and shake my head. “Get your ass up, Naomi. We need to move.”

She whips her head up. “Micah, what the fuck? I can barely move.”

I start in the direction of the cabin and call over my shoulder, “Then stay here, Naomi. It’s up to you. If this is some sort of trap, it won’t be good for you.”

The best-case scenario is that she stays in a puddle of her own puke, then goes back to Ezra, who’s waiting somewhere, too chicken shit to show himself, which will confirm she was lying. The worst-case scenario is playing out how I think it is.

She pulls herself off the ground and musters enough strength to follow me. I suppress a twinge of guilt, knowing how sick and weak she is. But if London is watching, I don’t want her to see Naomi in my arms.

We carry forward, and I slow my pace so Naomi can stick close to me, although I track her movements. She can barely walk, and when I turn to check on her, she’s dripping in sweat. Naomi needs to understand the seriousness of the situation, and if she had any part in it, she will pay. And until I’m certain she isn’t lying to me, I’m not coddling her, although admittedly, I can’t carry her any longer. My body is sore, and my knees are screaming at me now.

She huffs, and I hear her footsteps crunch on the ground behind me. I pull out my bone weapon sticking out of my pack. Keeping it firm in my hand, I signal for her to stop just before the cabin comes into sight. She knows this signal; she trapped animals with me for weeks when we first crash-landed.

“Micah, I… Please, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Shut up, Naomi,” I snap at her, drawing my eyes to the trail London left. If Nigel is here, Naomi has already announced our presence with her incessant talking.

I peer around, and my heart sinks. One set of tracks… It’s like I want there to be more… Somehow, if she had been taken, it would have been easier to swallow. There are no other tracks, no sign of Ezra or Nigel. I can only conclude they haven’t been here.

Naomi lets out a gasp as she catches up to me. “Is this where you and London have been all winter?”

My eyes are laser-focused on the door, which was left partially open. “Yes.”

She clearly doesn’t realize that London isn’t here. And I don’t want to say anything until I’m absolutely sure.

“Do Jade and Thomas know where you two have been? Is she in there?”

Finally, she thinks to ask about London.

I face her, my anger starting to boil over the edge. “I don’t owe anybody anything, Naomi, and I thought I told you not to ask questions.” I edge the door open slightly and peer inside, keeping one hand on her and the other gripped firmly on my bone weapon. Blood rushes to my head when I see that the spot where I left London is empty, with dried blood splattered in a line across the floor and on the bed. The stench of urine and sweat is heavy in the air.

My heart stops beating.

She’s gone.

The cabin is messy. It looks like she left in a hurry, and I can’t deduce what actually happened or how she got out of her restraints. I resist the urge to check on the food—I don’t want Naomi to know anything more than she already does.

I turn to face Naomi, trying to get a read on her, but her eyes are glazed and it looks like she might keel over. She’s shaking beside me, and I arch a brow. From the terror in her eyes, her fear of me is authentic right now.

“Where the fuck is she, Naomi?”

She stands, shaking, wrapping her arms around herself. “Micah, I don’t know where she is. You have to believe me. Please.”